Clockwork Heart: Clockwork Love, Book 1

by Heidi Cullinan

  It could all backfire, of course, but he counted on the fact that so very few people understood the new wireless code. Plenty of people in Italy used it, but few understood how it worked enough to look for this kind of signal. If anyone else were able to receive his message, they were likely liberal-minded and focused on economic future, not war. Hopefully they would pass the message on.

  For weeks he agonized, waiting by the little box of wires and knobs and vacuum tubes, hoping for the transmitter to let him know he had been heard. He waited. And waited. He kept the box with him as he manufactured more and more hearts for his father, these with transmitters as well. He wasn’t allowed to see his mother at all, except as display for motivation to continue working. It upset him, but he did not despair, pouring all his hopes into his transmitters.

  Then one day, in the middle of a preparation for a second surgery, the bulb on the top of the box began to flash.

  The assistant with him frowned at it. “What is that?”

  Conny did his best to contain his excitement. “It’s nothing of importance. A small calculation device set to help me work out fine motor improvements in the heart. The light simply means the most recent calculation is done.” He dried his hands on a towel and moved as casually to the transmitter as he could. “I’ll take note of the report, reset the calibrations and be with you in surgery shortly.”

  The assistant watched him as he scribbled nonsense on a notepad, eventually wandering back to his task. This allowed Conny to stop his charade and focus on translating the coded readout, hoping he was not reading the notice of his death warrant.

  He could not help a brief, elated smile as he realized that no, he was receiving quite the opposite.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Johann had nearly despaired of being able to locate Cornelius when Valentin found the list.

  He hadn’t let up on the idea there might be something useful inside the odd code he’d discovered in the French-German dictionary from the magistrate’s house, and he dogged Félix constantly to help him break the cipher. Félix didn’t want to give him too much of his time, as he was busy outfitting the Farthing to more quickly and efficiently fly over the Alps while his network tried, in vain, to hunt down Cornelius’s whereabouts. Eventually Heng took pity on him and sat with him one night with a bottle of port. That was when they discovered the key to the cipher, and that the entire dictionary was a list of names, cities and codes for a secret wireless network.

  Félix did pay attention then, though largely he was stupefied. “What is this? I recognize several of these names—though why in the world…?” He thumbed through the deciphered list, amazed. “I don’t understand. There are French and Austrian names, yes, which would make me think one set is full of traitors. But there are Italian names on here as well. And Spanish, and Portuguese. Egyptian, Moroccan, Turkish. Even American! This isn’t a list of spies. This is the antiwar coalition I’d heard rumored about. This is their directory.” He gasped and pointed to another name. “Elizabeth is on this list—Cornelius’s mother!”

  Heng pointed to a name and glanced at Johann. “That one’s from a town near yours, correct? Do you know anything about him?”

  It was a town near Johann’s village, and the merchant was well-known in the region. “He’s a good man, from what I’ve heard. Frustrated by the lack of economic development.”

  Heng grinned. “See? It fits. This is a list of people who want the war to end, I’d bet my life on it. And look at this one: a duchess in Vienna.”

  Crawley peered at the name and winced. “Heng, that’s no good. That’s the von Hohenburg by morganatic marriage. She has no power, low rank, and her children can’t inherit.”

  “Yes, I thought that was probably the only way she could possibly be on this list. That doesn’t mean she’s without influence. What if we use this network to get an audience with her? Maybe she can help us figure out who might have Conny, since Félix’s network is exhausted.”

  Crawley snorted. “You think we will get an audience with a duchess?”

  Heng shrugged. “Stranger things have happened. Anyway, we have to try.” He nodded at Val. “I figure Frenchie knows his way around a tea party. Félix too. And Molly looks good in a dress.”

  Johann liked this idea, not so much because it meant going back to Austria, but because it meant no longer sitting in Italy watching nothing happen. “They like tinkers in Vienna. Félix can present me as an example of his work. That should get their attention.”

  Félix, however, held up a hand. “I’m not ready to fly into Austria based on this list. I need to do some checking first. Caution is necessary in such an extraordinary matter. We can’t risk antagonizing the war.”

  “I’m tired of caution, and I don’t care anything about the damn war.” Johann slammed his clockwork hand on the table. “Cornelius is God-knows-where, and we sit here milling about on street corners, hoping for gossip. He could be hurt.”

  He could be dead.

  Félix would not be deterred, however, and so Johann paced the deck of the Farthing almost five more days after the discovery of the list before Félix agreed that yes, they could sail for Vienna.

  “I have my network reaching out to the Duchess of Hohenburg, but I can’t promise they’ll be able to get us an audience.” Félix tapped Valentin in the center of his chest. “Polish your charm and keep practicing your German, because we might well need both.”

  They flew out the next day. Rodrigo and his wife bid them goodbye, and then the crew, plus Félix, lifted into the clouds. The Brass Farthing had undergone over two months of repairs and refitting, inside and out, and as a result, she shone like a glittering jewel as she sailed swiftly over the Alps. The trip took little more than a solid day instead of the usual two, and they didn’t need to stop for fuel at all along the way.

  They could not, however, land inside the city limits of Vienna. There was an airship port in town, but it was strictly regulated and generally reserved for the army generals, merchants deemed essential by the state, and the noble families. The Brass Farthing, being foreign and unregistered with any country, had to sit for a lengthy inspection that involved also keeping the entirety of the crew on board. Johann paced the deck, nervous at being so close to the seat of the army he’d deserted—twice—and being yet still unable to do even the remotest thing to help Conny. It was clear the inspection would take days, possibly another week, and it was highly likely they’d never be admitted to the city at all. Neither Val nor Félix could charm anyone, because the inspectors were not the sort of men who went in for such a thing.

  And then the princess came.

  She arrived in a dirigible of her own, a small, short-range vessel of which there had been many in Naples and which there were precious few of in Vienna. This one outshone all the ships Johann had seen anywhere, even in pictures. It had filigree that was clearly gold, not polished brass, and it managed to bleed ornamentation without being grotesque, only seeming stunning and ostentatious. Once it landed, a pair of footmen lowered a set of velvet-lined stairs, with railing, and they stood on hand to assist as a young, well-dressed and impeccably poised gentlewoman exited the vessel.

  Wearing clockwork was rare anywhere in Austria, but this lady would have stood out in gear-obsessed Naples. She stood tall on high-laced boots ornamented with gear and tinker filigree, and her height was exaggerated by a high metal collar etched with intricate design and bearing the Hohenburg crest in the center. Her left arm had a delicate clockwork casing, as did her waist, a sort of copper girdle with wires and valves and knobs clustered near her navel. All this was worn over an elegant gown, black taffeta skirt and bodice over loose white silk shirtsleeves. A maid behind her carried a black lace umbrella decorated with gears and laced at the ends with wires.

  She marched up to the head inspector, who had ceased his lecture to Crawley as her vehicle approached and now bowed low before her. �
�Your Serene Highness. To what honor do we owe the pleasure of your visit? I thought your father and mother were at Court today.”

  “They are.” She opened a reticule and produced a small envelope bearing an embossed, official seal. “I’m delivering this on behalf of the Archduke of Hohenburg. We commandeer this vessel in our name, thereby rendering your inspection unnecessary.”

  “The devil you are!” Crawley pushed around the inspector, who sputtered as Crawley tried to insert himself between the inspector and the princess. Johann too hurried to intervene, wondering how he could telegraph to the captain that he did not want to stir the hornets’ nest he was about to step in.

  Before either of them reached Crawley, however, the princess snagged her parasol from the maid with her left hand, turned a dial on her girdle and rammed the very pointed copper end into Crawley’s side. There was a spark, a loud pop and an odd, sulfuric smell as Crawley yelped and fell backward into the inspector, clutching his side as he stared in stunned disbelief at the woman who had just felled him without so much as drawing a deep breath.

  The princess calmly returned the parasol to her trembling maid, then turned back to the inspector. “As I was saying, you are no longer needed here. Thank you for your service. Please continue with your work on other vessels.”

  The inspector fumbled with the envelope in his hands as he glanced uncertainly around the dock. “Princess Gisa, I don’t think it would be proper for me to leave you alone with these unsavory characters.”

  “It would be most improper for you to remain when you are dismissed. As for your concern for my person, I hope I have demonstrated I may take care of myself. However, if you remain unconvinced, I am happy to demonstrate my electric parasol to you as well.”

  The inspector hurried off quickly enough after that, offering to arrest the vessel’s former occupants, which the princess declined. Once the man was away from their pier and well out of earshot, the lady turned to the Farthing’s crew. Though she had spoken in High German to the inspector, she spoke in flawless English now.

  “Good afternoon. I am Princess Giselle Elisabeth Esterhàzy von Hohenburg. You may address me as Your Serene Highness initially and Princess or Princess Gisa after that. Who among you is Master Félix Dubois? And who is Mr. Johann Berger?”

  Félix stepped forward with a bow. “I am Félix Dubois, Your Serene Highness.” He gestured to Johann, who also bowed. “This is Johann Berger.”

  Princess Gisa curtseyed to them both. “It is a pleasure to meet you both. I have news I wish to deliver, but in private, please.” She turned to Crawley, who had risen from the ground and stood wincing and holding his side where she had stabbed him. “Please direct us to the officer’s meeting room of your vessel, Captain Crawley.”

  Johann had expected another outburst from Crawley, but the captain only nodded grudgingly and ordered Molly to lower the stairs. Princess Gisa sailed up them gracefully, her maid and wicked parasol in tow, then waited patiently on deck for the others to board. She glanced around with a critical eye.

  “It is a fine ship. Solid in structure and pretty of ornament. Tell me, Master Heng.” She turned to him, polite smiles and interest. “What sort of electricity do you have installed?”

  Heng regarded her warily. “I don’t know, Your Serene Highness. The regular sort?”

  She waved this away. “That’s fine. I’ll take a peek myself.”

  Molly and Olivia had remained on deck during the inspection, and as they took in their first glimpse of Princess Gisa, they seemed not to know what to do with themselves. Molly in particular looked taken aback and was oddly shy as she was introduced. Except the princess seemed to know not only Crawley and Heng’s names and titles, but everyone’s. She clasped Molly’s hand and smiled brightly. “When our business here is concluded, I should love to have a tour of the engines, Miss Taubner.”

  Crawley kept quiet as they filed into Cornelius’s workshop, but once the door was closed, he turned to their guest with great suspicion. “Who are you, Your Serene Highness, and how is it you know so much about us and my ship? And what do you mean, you’ve commandeered it?”

  She waved a black-gloved hand. “I had my father claim the vessel so you could fly freely into Vienna. That’s of course not what he thinks, but never mind about that. Who I am, Captain Crawley, is an ambassador of the Austrian sector of the Society to Liberate Europe. I understand you came upon one of our less careful members, Mr. Tremblay of Calais, who wrote out the cipher key in a dictionary now in your possession.”

  The crew glanced at one another, uncertain how to react. Heng broke the silence cautiously. “We didn’t see your name on the list.”

  “Of course not. It would be most unseemly for me as a member of the nobility to participate in such an organization. It would draw far too much attention. My cousin’s wife, being somewhat outside society, is perfectly safe, and she serves as my shield.” The princess folded her hands together over the table. “To get back to the cipher key. I will confess it alarmed us a great deal to find it had traveled outside the Society. However, before we could agree on how to deal with this breach, we received Mr. Stevens’s transmission asking about you, and of course, that has changed everything.”

  Johann straightened, his chest growing tight and hot at her revelation. “Cornelius Stevens? You’ve spoken to him? He’s alive?” He realized he’d practically barked at one of the most powerful women in Austria and quickly tacked on a low bow and a doffing of his hat. “Begging pardon for my rudeness, Your Serene Highness.”

  Gisa turned to him, smiling kindly. “No pardon needs to be begged. Yes. Cornelius asked me to convey his warm feelings to you and to assure you he is well, enough as can be expected.”

  Johann wanted to weep in relief. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Princess.”

  “Not at all, Mr. Berger.” She returned her focus to the rest of the table. “Mr. Stevens is in a remote keep near the Swiss border. His father has him held captive, producing clockwork hearts en masse. If he does not keep to the schedule the archduke requires, his mother, who is also captive, is tortured.”

  Johann ached, imagining what a horrible position his lover was in.

  Félix frowned. “But how can he do this—replicate the heart? He does not have the original.”

  Gisa glanced again at Johann. “No, but he has worked on it extensively, and he had your decoy copy. It was enough. Mr. Stevens wishes me to assure you, however, he has made several modifications, which we shall soon find work to our advantage. One of these is that the hearts emit a frequency and a message as directed by Mr. Stevens in his prison. It was this which allowed us to connect, for me to give instructions as to how to improve his transmitter, and which have ultimately allowed me to pinpoint his location. All that remains is for your vessel, Captain, to deliver a rescue mission.”

  Crawley gaped at her. “You want us to attack a fortified French keep full of the archduke’s finest soldiers, all bearing clockwork hearts? Are you mad?”

  “I said nothing of the sort about attacking. I said rescue.” She opened her reticule again, produced a roll of paper and spread it across the table. “These schematics give the finer details of the castle in which Mr. Stevens is kept. We will use them to plan our assault and escape. Of course, first we must consult with the Society and coordinate their efforts. While your mission is to retrieve Mr. Stevens, ours is to end this war. Though I daresay I have the tinker a hairsbreadth away from pledging to our cause, in which case our interests will be perfectly aligned.”

  Félix raised his eyebrows. “We will use the plans? Princess, surely you don’t mean you will accompany—”

  “I do indeed mean, Mr. Dubois. I will attend this rescue as the representative of the Society and as a competent woman interested in preserving a democratic Europe for future generations.” She touched her hair lightly. “And as an electric-tinker. I understand from my conversations
with Mr. Stevens neither of you are well-versed in electronics, and I am, to be blunt, Europe’s expert in electricity and wireless transmitters. The only reason electronics haven’t supplanted basic engineering tinkering is because men are too obsessed with designing things that can explode or go fast.”

  Crawley raised an eyebrow. “How in the world is it seemly for you, Princess, to engage in such a risky adventure on a boat full of pirates?”

  Johann couldn’t help admiring how breezily Princess Gisa dismissed all Crawley’s attempts to bait her. “Perhaps you misunderstand, Captain. I do not find it unseemly to engage on behalf of the Society, or to belong to the Society, but others will. Therefore it is only in matters of public record where I cannot be named. Because of course the world believes the Society largely drinks tea and discusses politics. They would be aghast to see how involved we truly are.”

  She spied Valentin, then, who had come in last and lingered in the back of the room, unable to comprehend most of what was said. But when Gisa saw him, she rose, took his hands and kissed his cheeks in a warm way as she spoke in rapid-fire French, apologizing for not seeing him sooner, assuring Val that Conny was well and that they would soon be rescuing him. She explained how she should be addressed in his own language, and also gave him Conny’s regards and his love.

  Val nodded through all of this, looking enchanted and more than a bit besotted. He thanked her when she finished, then glanced about, as if trying to find an entry into polite conversation. “Your Serene Highness, your gown is beautiful, but it is all in black. Are you in mourning? May I give you my condolences?”